


The Journal of the Winter Rose

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Bisexuality, Diary/Journal, Dorne, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Girl Bonding, Multi, POV Female Character, Puberty, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual exploration, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of Robert’s Rebellion, the realm of Dorne was so infuriated by the deaths of Elia Martell and her children that they threatened a bloody campaign throughout the continent. Still reeling from Robert’s War and the Greyjoy rebellions, practically anything was offered to placate the infuriated Princes of House Martell. Short of delivering the head of Gregor Clegane, there was one demand Robert Baratheon agreed to.</p><p>The Princes of Dorne, Doran and Oberyn insisted that since the rest of the realm had so brutally taken the favorite daughter of Dorne, that they would in turn take the favorite daughters of the realm</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this piece I wrote a little while ago. It's an exploration of Sansa as a young character and features tons of girl bonding. Basically, the idea is that all the High Noble Girls were raised at the Water Gardens by Oberyn and Ellaria. Being raised in Dorne brings a conflict of identity and quite a bit of culture clashing. I wanted to see how these characters would live in this setting and how it would alter their characters.
> 
> Most, if not all of this is going to be recorded in Sansa's journal. So be prepared for some first person POV.
> 
> Tell me if you think the voice comes alive. I've been writing really angsty stories, but I want to explore an innocence of youth that can be lost. All these girls from traditional families being raised in very untraditional Dorne. Also, I wanted to explore what kind of parents Oberyn and Ellaria make.
> 
> Let me know if you find this entertaining and/or realistic. It's going to start out very PG, but will get sexier.

Prologue:

At the end of Robert’s Rebellion, the realm of Dorne was so infuriated by the deaths of Elia Martell and her children that they threatened a bloody campaign throughout the continent. Still reeling from Robert’s War and the Greyjoy rebellions, practically anything was offered to placate the infuriated Princes of House Martell. Short of delivering the head of Gregor Clegane, there was one demand Robert Baratheon agreed to.

The Princes of Dorne, Doran and Oberyn insisted that since the rest of the realm had so brutally taken the favorite daughter of Dorne, that they would in turn take the favorite daughters of the realm. A girl for each of the High Houses was demanded as a ward from age five until their marriage. As House Tully had no daughters, two of the girls of House Stark were taken, while both Princess Myrcella and Lady Shireen Baratheon were taken to fill both the Baratheon and Lannister quotas. 

The journal of the eldest daughter of House Stark, Lady Sansa, has been preserved as an invaluable account of life for the young women raised within an environment that was unconventional for the time period, to say the least.

 

Chapter One: Ninth Day of the First Moon, 300 A.L.

Dear Journal,

I have no idea what to write. 

I’m rather upset with myself. I feel like I _should_ know what to write. I came into my bedchamber this evening very resolute. I marched into the chamber when the dancing was over, placed this book firmly on the surface of my desk, grabbed a quill and sat down before the first page in the most determined manner. Margaery did chuckle at me for it. I hadn’t even stopped to wash my face, clean my teeth, or take off my dressing gown and slippers before I sat down. Normally, I am very, very careful with my skin and mouth you see, and never neglect to wash my face the second I get back to the room. But no, this evening I knew I _had_ to start writing at once. That way I’ll have pages upon pages of writing to shove in Arya, and Elia’s faces tomorrow at breakfast.

I proceeded to stare at the blank paper for nearly half an hour while Margaery got ready for bed. Every candle in our chamber but for the one on my desk is out. I can hear her snore.

I want so badly to have all sorts of things to write in here. Especially after what Arya said today. 

I honestly hate her sometimes. I really do. I hate her and it utterly baffles me how we could possibly be true blood sisters. How is it that Margaery, with whom I share so much, who is so lovely and sweet, who knows me better than anyone, shares no blood with me whatsoever while Arya shares my parentage and name? I would not mind so much if Arya was bastard-born, like our half-brother Jon or Papa Oberyn’s natural daughters. If Arya was only my half-sister, sired by our father and not my complete sister, it wouldn’t be so troubling. I can understand her being of the Stark bloodline. The Gods know that she, out of all our father’s trueborn children, looks the most Northern. Arya is easily the most like our father with her dark hair and long face. Likewise, she looks like our half-brother Jon, who is a bastard son of our father and also has the Northern looks. Meanwhile, all my trueborn brothers and I have the Tully looks of our mother: red hair, high cheekbones, and blue eyes. We look like we came from Lady Catelyn Tully Stark. Arya doesn’t look or act anything like our lady mother. Or at least, from what I remember of her and can gather from her letters. I haven’t actually seen her in years. But all I have with her makes it seem impossible that Arya is as much her daughter as I am. But no, my Lady Mother has sworn up and down that Arya somehow came from her womb. I know because I asked when I was four.

I would feel bad saying such things about my sister if I wasn’t certain that she absolutely loathes me and feels even less of a bond with me than I do with her. I am willing to wager that if Arya Stark were to make a list of the people she despises most in the world it would read like this:

Arya Stark’s List of Most Hateful Humans on the Planet (With Reasons):

1\. Ser Gregor “The Mountain” Clegane for raping and killing Papa Oberyn’s beloved sister Elia, and murdering her children  
2\. Lord Tywin Lannister for ordering The Mountain to kill Elia and her children  
3\. Lady Sansa Stark for being stupid, silly, useless, snobby, annoying, boring, bad at fighting, frivolous [not that Arya would use that word, as I’m positive she couldn’t spell or define it, she’d use some drawn out phrase that means essentially the same thing], bad at figures, cowardly, a ninny, and a goody-two-shoes

I’m almost certain that The Mountain and Lord Tywin are the only two murderers in this world who she’s willing to hate more than me. All the other murderers, rapers, thieves, scoundrels, etc, she probably prefers to her ninny sister. She probably prefers all the other people as well.

And it isn’t like she doesn’t make that clear every chance she gets. Today was my fourteenth name day. The one day of the year where you would think that Arya would be nice to me. Seven Hells, even Asha, Obella, and Elia, who are in general rather caustic, were sweet today (Well, Elia up to a point, but I’ll get to that). Then this afternoon, everyone was passing out gifts. And Nym, who always gives the most interesting presents, gave me this book. And it really is a lovely gift. The cover has a white satin over the stiff leather. She embroidered the satin with blue winter roses, a silver direwolf’s head and my initials. At first I thought the book was maybe a collection of my favorite stories and songs, or maybe filled with poems and songs I’d either written or had been written about me. That’s the sort of thing Nym often does. But no, the pages were blank. She told me then that the book was for me to record all of my thoughts.

Without missing a beat, Arya goes, “Well then, those pages are going to stay blank.”

Arya then laughed at her joke along with Elia, Obella, and Dorea. Trystane and Shireen gave nervous titters but quickly quieted themselves and looked guilty. No one else laughed. Even Obara and Asha, who tease me regularly, looked annoyed, unimpressed, and a bit embarrassed. Papa Oberyn and Mama Ellaria looked very angry, as did Arianne and Uncle Doran. Almost everyone just found the remark extremely uncomfortable and felt sorry for me. There were four people laughing to the two and a half dozen that were not. But it didn’t matter. Arya had said it loud and cleverly enough to utterly humiliate me.

And it hurt so much because I was having such a lovely day! It’s my first Name Day as a proper maiden flowered, as I had my first blood come after I turned thirteen. I got to wear a proper woman’s gown, there was banqueting all day with a proper dance schedule to go well into the night and I was able to stay up late for the first time with the older girls. I got to wear the most beautiful dress that Mama Ellaria and Margaery had made for me that was made up of the loveliest violet and pale blue silks and parts that had this rose and silver brocade. Mama Ellaria let me wear rouge and paint my eyelids for the first time. The paint was purple and it made my eyes--- which are blue--- look violet. All dressed up I felt so lovely and grown-up and exotic. Everyone says I’m very, very pretty. But today I’d felt truly, truly beautiful. And I had all this lovely jewelry. Uncle Doran gave me this white-gold necklace with teardrop pearls, and Papa Oberyn gave me these white-gold arm bracelets. Margaery did my hair in the loveliest way, too. And everyone in the Wtaer Gardens was celebrating! Practically everyone was there--- Sarella wasn’t, but she couldn’t leave Oldtown. But pretty much everyone else was, including Uncle Doran and Arianne. And you know, even Obara and Asha had dressed up. They were actually wearing real gowns, even though they despise wearing skirts. To tell you the truth, Asha looked very dashing and dramatic and lovely in the dress she wore--- black silk with a bodice fashioned with a gold kraken pin. I dare say she actually looked more dangerous in her gown than she does in her usual breeches. When I said that, she actually laughed and said I looked like a sunset over the ocean. Asha doesn’t give compliments easily, and she almost never says anything about how I look. So it really was kind. And you know, she was sweet the whole day and actually called me clever at one point. That really shocked me because I always get the impression that Asha thinks I am a useless fool.

I got all these letters and packages from home as well. Just the sweetest letters from everyone. Even Rickon, who is only six and is just learning to write wrote me a note in his own hand that said: DEER SANSA HAPEE NAM DAY. LUV RICKON + SHAGGYDOG. Shaggydog is his wolf. He drew me a picture of himself and Shaggydog at the bottom of the page. Even Asha’s brother, Theon, wrote me a note. Theon Greyjoy never writes to anyone. Well, almost never. I think maybe twice Theon wrote to Asha on her Name Days. He hasn’t written to any of the other girls. Asha joked that her brother just saw the portrait that Quentyn drew of me and that’s why he’s taken an interest.

“That’s why the prince wrote to you as well!” Nym added, grinning. The portrait Quentyn did was copied and sent around to the capitol as well, so the Prince would have seen one. 

I got a few letters from the royal family. Usually, I get missives from the King and Queen on my Name Day, but this year I got a note from Prince Joffrey as well. Well, it was signed with his name but the text of it looked suspiciously like his mother’s hand. 

Still, flattering. 

I also got to sit up on the royal dais with Papa Oberyn and Uncle Doran and Arianne. And it was just so lovely and fun. 

Lemoncakes: everywhere. 

And then supper came along with the gifts and we were just having so much fun! It was honestly the most blessed day. Even Shireen had taken off her veil and was smiling from ear to ear. It was so perfect.

And then Arya had to go and say that. 

I almost cried, I really did. She said it just loudly enough, and enough people had laughed, and it had happened in front of so many people. Happy Name Day Sansa: you’re an idiot! I didn’t cry because I knew that it would just prove to Arya that in addition to being stupid, I am also as weak as she thinks I am. Also, I didn’t cry because I didn’t want to ruin the kohl Mama Ellaria applied to my eyelids. So I did that thing I often do when I want to hold in my emotions and just stared off into the distance and pretended I was somewhere else. 

It was just so unfair and pointless. 

I take comfort in the fact that almost no one found it funny. Papa Oberyn looked so angry. He gave Arya that glare that he does. I call it the Eyes of the Viper because when he has that look, it’s the only time I can understand why anyone calls him the Red Viper. The whole world thinks Papa Oberyn is dangerous and terrifying and half-mad. Most of the time, I can’t fathom how anyone could think that, or at least anyone that knows him. I remember stepping off the ship at the Sunspear Port when I first came here and wondering how it was that the evil, terrifying Red Viper of Dorne could have such sweet eyes and such a soft smile. But then every so often, when he’s truly angry, I remember. Because all of a sudden, he looks less like my foster-father and more like, well, an angry viper ready to strike. 

Papa Oberyn would never strike at Arya, of course. But that doesn’t mean he was happy. Papa almost never disciplines anyone. Usually, he leaves that up to Mama Ellaria, Septa Nerys, and Obara. But today, he was willing to punish.

At first he just spoke quietly, but in that way that’s quiet, but somehow also very loud. “You will apologize to your sister now.”

And I guess Arya wasn’t paying attention to his eyes, because she was too busy rolling her own. “Oh come now! It was a jest!”

“Jests are funny. You are not. Now apologize.”

“Papa---“

“This is your last chance.”

“What? It’s not like---“

And that’s when he stood up. “You are going to leave now and go to your chambers. You are going to stay there for the rest of the night, and after that you are only to leave when you’re ready to say you’re sorry. Septa, take Arya away. Daemon, go lock Nymeria in the cellar.”

He meant Nymeria, Arya’s Direwolf. Not Nym. Everyone knows that if you want to lock Arya up, you have to lock her wolf up as well. 

That’s when Elia spoke up. “Papa, this is stupid. She was just---”

“Elia, I think you should apologize as well.”

Elia looked furious. “Apologize?! Why should I apologize to Sansa? I didn’t say anything. And besides, she is stupid.”

“You will both go to your chambers now.”

Septa Nerys and a couple of the maids led the furious-looking girls away. Obella went red and looked at me. “Sansa, I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice.”

Dorea was actually crying, making the whole thing worse. “I’m sorry too! I’m sorry I laughed! I don’t even know what she said! I was just laughing because Arya says funny things sometimes! I’m sorry!”

I quickly forgave them, because they actually seemed like they meant it. Obella seemed to realize how uncalled for it was. Dorea is only six, so I believed her when she said she didn’t know what she was laughing at.

I think the worst part was the silence that followed it all. Moments prior, everyone had been laughing and smiling and talking. Then Arya made her “joke” and everyone just seemed uncomfortable. I could see that I was suddenly receiving a great deal of pity, and I _hate_ that.

Thank the Gods for Margaery, who is the Queen of fixing awkward situations. While everyone was either looking at me with pitying eyes or staring at their plates in embarrassment, Margaery just ran over with a big smile and cried out, “MY TURN!”

And then she dropped a box on top of my meal of fresh crab. At first I protested, because Margaery had already given me the gown.

“Oh, _honestly_ Sansa, you need to just relax and let me spoil you! Open it!”

I did. And inside… Oh it was so lovely. A white gold pendant and chain. The pendant was of a Direwolf’s head against a rose. It opened up and inside was a little cameo of Margaery and I. On the back was an S intertwined with an M.

The best part was this though: Margaery reached into her dress and pulled out an identical necklace! So we both have one! Isn’t that the most beautiful thing?

“The chain is adjustable!” She announced brightly.

That’s when I actually started crying. It was just so lovely and sweet and…

I love Margaery about as much as my blood sister hates me. That is how much I love her. No, more. I love Margaery more than Arya hates me.

Margaery Tyrell is honestly the sweetest, kindest, cleverest, funniest, most beautiful person I know. And she _is_ my sister. I don’t care who says differently. They’re wrong. Margaery Tyrell is more my sister than Arya Stark could ever be.

Some day it will be official, too. We decided years ago how it will all work. One of us is going to marry Prince Joffrey and be queen and then the one who doesn’t marry Joffrey is going to marry the other’s brother. Then the one who is queen will convince Joffrey to make her brother Hand of the King so that not only will we be Goodsisters, but we’ll live and rule the kingdom together.

Margaery has it all worked out. She’s ridiculously clever, you see. I was nine when we decided. It was late at night in our bedchamber and we were under the covers together, giggling and talking.

“It’s really the only proper way for our lives to turn out. You are the eldest daughter of the Warden of the North and your father owns the most land in the realm. I’m the eldest daughter of the Warden of the South and my father is the richest man in the realm who isn’t Prince Joffrey’s grandfather. We’re both similar in age to the prince, and of the daughters of the great families, we’re easily the prettiest and most ladylike. It only makes sense that he’s going to marry one of us. I mean, who else is going to be his Queen? Asha? Arianne? Arianne is too old for him and you know Asha would never, ever want to spend her life confined to the capitol. She’d rather be captain of a ship than Queen of a realm. Also, they could both inherit their fathers’ seats, so they need to marry someone below their status to maintain their family names. Joffrey isn’t going to marry Myrcella. He’s a Baratheon, not a Targaryen. Shireen has the Greyscale. And you know Arya would be an utter disaster, besides being too young. There are no daughters of House Tully or Arryn. So who else but either of us?”

“But then we’d be parted.” I shivered, my chest propped up by my pillows. “Whoever is Queen would have to stay in the capitol while the other goes off to marry some other Lord.” 

She winked at me then. “Well, here’s the best part: we won’t be. I’ve worked it out. My brother Willas is heir to Highgarden, he’s unmarried and likely to stay that way for a long time because of his leg. If I were to become Queen, you would marry Willas.”

“We’d be goodsisters!” I had said, excited.

“And here’s the best part: I would make Joffrey name Willas Hand of the King. Then you’d both have to move to the capitol. We’d be sisters, we’d live together, and we’d rule the kingdoms together! I’d rule through Joffrey, and you’d rule through Willas. I’d be Queen and you’d be my Hand!”

I had giggled at that. “Hand of the Queen?”

“Yes. It would be like with Tywin Lannister and Lady Joanna. You know what they used to say about him? ‘Lord Tywin ruled the kingdoms, and Lady Joanna ruled Lord Tywin.’”

“You want me to _rule_ your brother?”

“Well, you’d have to. My grandmother is always saying how men are basically useless without a woman to tell them what to do. That’s the only system that ever works. Wives and mothers tell the men what to do, and then the men go and do what they’re told. She says that every time men don’t listen to their women, they end up starting a war. Grandmama always told Grandpapa and Father what to do, and we’re the second richest family in the realm. Lord Tywin did as Lady Joanna told him, and not only did he practically rule the kingdoms, but he’s the richest man in the realms _and_ his daughter is queen. He’s utterly despicable, but he is successful. And he only did all those horrible things after his wife died, you know. Lady Joanna died and that’s when he started murdering women and children.”

“Alright, so you’re going to be Queen and I’ll be your Hand?” I asked, giggling.

“Well, maybe. Maybe not. It just might happen that you’re picked.”

“Oh.” I’d always dreamed of being a princess, but all of a sudden it didn’t seem so appealing.

“Well, you know, that’s what brothers are for, of course. And you have an older brother who is heir to Winterfell.”

“You’d marry _Robb?!”_ I said, barely able to fathom such a thing. When I’d last seen Robb, he was a mischievous boy of eight. And though he was a year older than Margaery, he hadn’t been nearly as clever as she was when we’d first met. But the thought of him married to _anyone_ made me laugh.

“Yes, I’d marry Robb and be Lady of Winterfell. And you’d make Joffrey name Robb as his Hand so that I can be your Hand and we’ll rule the realms together. It’s simply perfect. No matter which of us is picked, we end up sisters ruling the kingdoms together. Then one of us will have a daughter to marry the other’s son. So we’ll share grandchildren. And then we can keep ruling through our children and grandchildren. We’ll be ancient old bitties sitting on either side of the Iron Throne telling the person sitting on it what to do. It’ll be like we were actually both Kings of the realm, except we won’t have to sit on that awful old metal chair. We’ll have all the power _and_ cushions for our backsides.”

Sometimes I think it’s a bit silly. But the thing is, Margaery has a great deal of talent when it comes to getting what she wants. 

And, by extension, what I want. Margaery and I always seem to want the same things. I’m very lucky.

I know it’s so strange, but sometimes I find myself wishing that Margaery were a man and Prince of the Realm. That way she’d be King, I’d be her Queen, and we could cut out everything else and rule the kingdom together without husbands and brothers getting in the way. But then Margaery would have to sit on the Iron Throne, which is not something anyone should ever want. Half the quotes I read from Kings in my history books are remarks and japes about how uncomfortable it is.

I think Margaery would make a very good King. If I got to decide who ruled the kingdom, it would probably be her. Well, maybe Papa Oberyn or Margaery’s Grandmama Olenna first, but Margaery would be the heir. Maybe more Grandmama Olenna than Papa Oberyn. The Queen of Thorns is always writing to Margaery and Margaery says that everything she knows she learns from her grandmother’s letters. Papa Oberyn is clever and sweet, but he might be too passionate a person to rule. Also, he loves traveling, and if he were to be king, he’d have to stay in King’s Landing. That would make him very sad, I think. And he’d probably have to marry someone other than Mama Ellaria, which would make him feel worse. No, Papa Oberyn is better off as the junior Prince of Dorne. But Lady Olenna doesn’t mind staying in one place. And I bet she’d demand a cushion for the Iron Throne as well. So King Olenna followed by King Margaery.

I must be very, very tired to be writing this. It’s really very mad, isn’t it?

Most of the time, my dreams and imaginings are quite ordinary--- being a fair maiden from a song, meeting handsome knights, seeing magical things, dreams like that. But every so often my mind goes to these queer places.

Tenth Day of the First Moon, 300 A.L.

Dear Journal,

I have the following letters to read and reply to as a result of my Name Day. 

1\. Father  
2\. Mother  
3\. Robb  
4\. Jon  
5\. Bran  
6\. Rickon  
7\. Luwin  
8\. Sarella  
9\. Ser Frenys Manwoody  
10\. Lord Harmen Uller  
11\. Lord Starris Dayne  
12\. Uncle Edmure  
13\. Aunt Lysa and Cousin Robin  
14\. Lady Delonne Allyrion  
15\. Lady Olenna Tyrell  
16\. Lord Mace Tyrell  
17\. Willas Tyrell  
18\. King Robert and Queen Cersei  
19\. Prince Joffrey  
20\. Theon Greyjoy

Twenty letters! I really should be writing to reply to them right now instead of writing in this journal, but I’ve been curiously drawn back to this book.

This morning, as I planned, I marched onto the terrace, right up to Arya and Elia, and flipped the pages I’d filled in their faces. Over twenty pages, and my handwriting is small. I of course yanked the book away before Arya could grab it and read what I’d written. Thankfully, I’ve always been uncommonly tall. I may have the Tully coloring, but I have Stark height! Holding the book above my head, I cried out, “How is that for thoughts? I did this all while you were both asleep.”

And then they apologized to me, Arya begrudgingly.

Nym found this very amusing. And she presented me with these sort of custom made bags. They’re like saddle bags, but they don’t go on a saddle and they are made to go on Lady’s back. Lady is my wolf. She, along with Margaery, is my constant companion. She’s an absolutely majestic animal, the size of a horse and a beautiful creature. Sleek grey fur, glittering yellow eyes, and yet she’s as dainty as I am. She is gentle, too. Even little Loreza isn’t afraid of her. Unlike that beastly Nymeria, who terrifies everyone but Arya, myself, Papa Oberyn, Obella, and Mama Ellaria. Even Asha is nervous around Nymeria. Because she’s a wild monster like my sister.

My Lady is a great miracle, more so, I think, than any other creature. Now, to be fair, all of my siblings have wolves, even my half-brother Jon Snow, and all of them are miracles. My father and brothers found a dead She-Direwolf and her litter of pups--- still alive--- a few years ago. The Direwolf is the sigil of House Stark, but no one had seen such creatures below The Wall in centuries. So that they got here and survived was a miracle. At first, they were going to kill the pups. Then Jon, who is smarter than people give him credit for, pointed out to my father that they’d found five pups in the litter. Three male. Two female. And there were five Stark children. Three boys. Two girls. And Jon said that we were meant to have them. And then, wouldn’t you know it, they discovered one more pup--- a snow white albino male. One male pup for Robb. One she-pup for Sansa. One she-pup for Arya. One male-pup for Bran. One male-pup for Rickon. One snowy male for Jon Snow. Well, Father didn’t need any more convincing. Symbolism is symbolism.

Lady and Nymeria were sent to Dorne for Arya and I. Now, what makes our she-wolves even more special is the fact that despite being animals meant to live in frozen lands, our girls thrive in the deserts of Dorne. Of course, when they got here, they shed like mad. But since then? Other than them panting a bit at the end of the day and preferring the shade, they’re fine. Our wolves are survivors.

But Lady, I think, is the most special of all. Some would say I’m biased, but I have sound reasons to make this claim. Nymeria, as I said, is a wild beast. She is not well-trained, she’s messy, she growls at almost everyone but Arya, she can be very hard to control, and she has no manners. Now, as opposed to my feelings on her mistress, I don’t entirely blame Nymeria for this. She’s a Direwolf! A monstrous canine bred in the frozen wastelands beyond The Wall! _Of course_ she’s going to be wild and hard to control. The only people who can really control her at all without resorting to violence are Arya and myself. And she still growls at me. She’d never hurt me, but she doesn’t like me. She’s true to her nature, and her nature is that of an enormous bitch.

Lady, on the other hand, is as unbitchlike as possible. Everyone is charmed by Lady. Loreza likes to ride on her back and Lady lets her. Unlike Nymeria, Lady is allowed in nearly every room of the castle. When I walk through the streets with her, people are not afraid. Children as young as three run up and ask to pet her. She is perfectly trained, obeying commands at once. She keeps her coat clean and lets people touch her and groom her without fussing. She doesn’t growl or bark often. When I named her, Arya rolled her eyes and remarked that it was just so predictable that I’d call her that. But quite frankly, it’s the only thing I could have called her. Lady is a Lady. And I don’t see Arya’s wolf ruling the Rhoynar.

Now, I think that is just incredible. Miraculous. My pet should be a wild, untameable, vicious beast. And yet she’s more gentrified than half of the realm’s nobility.

Then there’s the fact that I can enter her mind.

I’m almost afraid to write of it. I believe that this may be the one thing I haven’t told Margaery. Aside from a name, place of birth, and heritage, it’s the only thing I share with Arya. 

I haven’t even spoken of it to Papa Oberyn or Mama Ellaria.

It’s just… something that started happening. 

I’d heard stories of wargs from Old Nan, my nurse back in Winterfell, and read about them in my Northern books. But they’re not trusted much below the Neck. They’re not even really trusted much in the North. Skinchangers are often spoken of as sorcerers, as unnatural. Sometimes in the stories and discussions on them, they’re just spoken of as strange but interesting, other times they’re villains. So it’s something I prefer to keep to myself. 

It started with dreams I had where I was Lady. At first I just thought they were dreams. But then the things I saw in my dreams turned out to be things that actually happened while I was asleep. Arya confided in me that she was experiencing the same thing with Nymeria. So I started concentrating when I slept and tried to control myself, to make Lady do things that I could find evidence of in the morning and sure enough, they’d happen and I’d find evidence of them happening in the morning. I wrote Maester Luwin for books on Northern folklore and read as much as I could. Before long, Arya and I figured out how to take control of Lady and Nymeria at will.

That’s why Nymeria always needs to be locked up whenever Arya is punished. Otherwise she just avoids the punishment by transferring her consciousness into Nymeria. Well, that and Nymeria always goes nuts whenever Arya is punished. That’s the reason the adults have her locked up, anyways.

Arya and I, when we do manage to talk to each other without fighting, often wonder if our brothers are wargs as well. We’ve both considered writing to them about it, but have balked. Someone could read our letters. For all of Nym and Tyena’s pretending as sweet, refined, good women, neither are above subterfuge. And as much as I hate to admit it, Papa Oberyn is the same. We believe our messages are read at least some of the time.

Margaery established a code with her family, so she can write whatever she wants. I actually know how it works. The problem is, my parents and brothers do not. So when would I teach it to them?

I miss my family.

I love my life here. I never expected to. I fully believed I’d come to the Water Gardens as a miserable hostage, hated by everyone, burning in the awful, unyielding sun, leered at by the famously hot-blooded Dornishmen. I thought I’d be a helpless prisoner to the dreaded Red Viper, an innocent to torment. And then when I found the people here kind, I was determined to hate them regardless. They took me from my family. They were keeping me and all the other daughters of the Great Houses hostage. Despite how kind, generous, intelligent, funny, and interesting they were, they were the monsters in the songs, keeping the fair maiden captive.

But I don’t feel like a captive here. I mean, technically I am. But I don’t feel that way.

But I still miss my true family. My true brothers, my parents. I miss Winterfell. Sometimes, Arya and I build Winterfell out of the sand. That’s when we’re really getting along. I miss my mother braiding my hair. I miss Father and his strong arms holding me up. I miss making forts out of pillows and furs and sheets with Robb and Jon.

I wish they all wrote to me as much as the Tyrells write to Margaery. I think even the Tyrells write to me more than the Starks do. I get two letters a moon from mother and father, and one each from my brothers. Margaery gets letters from every member of her family every week.

I miss the forests and mountains of the North. I miss Old Nan and her stories. I miss Hodor. I miss Jory. I miss the winter snows and the snowball fights we’d have. I miss sleeping in furs. I miss the Godswood, the hot springs. I miss the winter roses.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa thinks about home, guilt, sex, and makes a big decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys. I actually lost a bunch of writing for this story and was like, "AHHH." I'm a baby about re-writing and it drove me nuts.

13th Day of the First Moon, 300 AL

 

Dear Journal,

 

All my replies are written. I spent a good three hours on them today. I wrote them in Uncle Doran’s library, where I am also currently writing in this book. It’s the quietest place in the water gardens. And not even because people avoid it. There are usually at least three people in here at the very least. Uncle Doran is just very, very strict about people not making noise around his books. He treats them like sleeping infants. Even when he handles them, it’s all very delicate, and he insists that everyone else acts the same way.

 

It’s also very cool in here. It’s at the heart of the palace, on the cellar floor. No windows, just stone walls. Only small candles provide the light. It’s like a cave. No matter what you’re doing in this room, it always feels like some sort of secret adventure.

 

Going down there always makes me imagine that my life is more exciting than it really is. I think that’s why Uncle Doran is so fanatic about keeping everything in here in perfect condition. He’s confined to a wheelchair, after all. He doesn’t get to move around much. He has to find some distraction. The library is really the perfect place to lose yourself. When he isn’t out in the gardens observing everyone, he’s usually in here.

 

It took me a while to finish all of my replies, but I knew everyone would be disappointed in me if I didn’t finish them promptly enough. Usually, I am good at such things, but I’ve been distracted by this book. Who would have thought that a book with no stories in it would draw me in like this?

 

But I did finish them promptly, just not as promptly as I normally would. I think Theon Greyjoy’s silly letter helped distract me as well. I couldn’t stop reading it to people and laughing about it. Everyone found it funny.

 

I could barely keep a straight face replying to it.

 

Asha says that her brother had been a shy little boy who was tormented by their older brothers when she knew him. I remember even less of him from my life back at Winterfell. I feel bad laughing, but I can’t help it.

 

The letters I received from my parents and brothers reminded me of how much I miss them. And my memories of them are slipping away. That’s the worst part, really. Every time I think of them, the images of their faces get a little blurrier and I just wish I could recall.

 

Oh Gods, I’m crying. People are going to notice and I hate-----

 

Later:

 

Dear Journal,

 

Uncle Doran came over. He was very sweet and kind, especially once he realized that the book my tears were landing on was just my journal. I told him about missing my family, and he patted me on the shoulders and told me I’ll see them eventually.

 

Well, I’m worried I won’t. At least, not all of them. Every other letter I get from Jon has him threatening to join the Night’s Watch. And if he does this before I return North I may never see him again. Arya and I are always writing to him to beg him not to leave just yet. There is no reason for it.

 

It just makes me angry. Jon always writes that he feels that he has no place at home because he’s a bastard. That makes no sense to me. Obara, Nym, Sarella, Tyena, Elia, Obella, Dorea, Loreza, Daemon and Mama Ellaria are ALL bastards, and they always felt welcome in their homes. Daemon once even felt confidant enough to ASK FOR ARIANNE’S HAND IN MARRIAGE. He took Arianne’s maidenhead. Everyone, including Uncle Doran, knows and no one cares. Daemon hasn’t been made to feel unwelcome anywhere. Everyone loves him. So if a bastard here can take a princess’s maidenhead and then tell her father and ask for her hand, then why can’t a bastard up North feel comfortable living in his own home?

 

And it isn’t like Jon is very rebellious or poorly behaved. I never get any reports in my letters of Jon misbehaving. I get complaints about Robb and Bran and Rickon and Theon, but never Jon. And I don’t think Jon has ever taken the maidenhead of any ladies or princesses. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jon hasn’t lost whatever version of maidenheads that boys have. He’s so sweet and thoughtful in his letters. He actually remembers things we’ve written about before, and unlike Robb, he doesn’t make fun of Arya and I for being girls who fight. He says he thinks it’s wonderful.

 

Jon is so lovely, yet he doesn’t feel like he has a home. Sometimes he hints that it has to do with Mother, that she resents him for being Father’s bastard. But Obara, Tyena, Nym, and Sarella are all Papa Oberyn’s bastards from other women and Mama Ellaria loves them.

 

But then again, Mama Ellaria is a bastard herself. And she also likes to go to the whore houses with Papa Oberyn. I am positive my Lady Mother would never, ever do that. I don’t even think my father goes to whore houses. I think he went to one once, and returned from it with Jon.

 

To my embarrassment, almost everything I wrote here, I more or less said to Uncle Doran. Sometimes I just can’t stop myself from saying things I really shouldn’t say. When I mentioned Daemon and Arianne, he winced. Not that he didn’t know before. EVERYONE KNOWS. AND EVERYONE KNOWS THAT HE KNOWS. So it isn’t like I was getting anyone besides myself into trouble by mentioning it.

 

I didn’t mention the parts about my parents and whore houses though. I’m quite happy about that.

 

If I had been talking to Papa Oberyn and Mama Ellaria, then I might have mentioned it. I always feel like I can speak to Papa Oberyn and Mama Ellaria about almost everything. Even brothels. They don’t exactly make a secret of frequenting them.

 

But really, considering everything, I don’t understand why Jon would choose to go to the Wall. It’s the North that makes him feel unwelcome because of his bastard status. So his solution is to go _even further North? How does that even begin to make sense?_

 

I asked Uncle Doran that too. He said that he couldn’t tell me. It made little sense to him.

 

I like having these talks with Uncle Doran. Even when I end up saying things I don’t mean to say, I always get something out of it.

 

That’s what I love about the Martells. Never have I ever had a boring conversation with any of them. I don’t think the Dornish know how to be boring.

 

This talk made me feel so much better, and writing about it just made me feel EVEN better.

 

I think I’m going to add post scripts to all my replies asking them to write more. And maybe I’ll ask for portraits to be sent so I know what they all look like. I hope Robb is very handsome so that if I get picked to marry Joffrey, Margaery will have a handsome husband. I know Robb would probably be happy with Margaery. She’s beautiful and wonderful and smart. If she doesn’t become Queen, she should definitely marry my brother.

 

Yes, I’m definitely going to add those requests to my letters home.

 

17th Day of the First Moon, 300 AL

 

Dear Journal,

 

It’s been over a week since my fourteenth name day, and there are still people who are referring to me as a child. I take umbrage at this. I thought when I flowered this would end. It didn’t. Then I thought that after my first name day following my flowering, it would end. It still didn’t.

 

I went to the training yard today to vent some of my frustrations about it. I had a several day reprieve from practicing. But this isn’t like several years ago, when I still had to wield spears and swords. Ever since Papa Oberyn brought Maestra Drin over from Lys to teach me Tessell Fighting, I actually enjoy my training.

 

I also had the necklaces Margaery and Uncle Doran got me and the bracelets Papa Oberyn gave me to try out for the first time. It turns out the teardrop pearls in Uncle Doran’s necklace are hollowed out to act as poison vials. I still haven’t figured out what Margaery’s necklace and Papa Oberyn’s bracelets are supposed to do. I just know that they’re pretty.

 

It used to be that I thought that was all jewelry was for. It was also what I thought girls were for. That and making babies. But when I got to Dorne, I was told I had to learn to fight and I _hated it._ I didn’t like doing boy things and I didn’t like using boy things like swords and spears. All fighting, to me, was created by men and I wanted to be a _lady._ So after four years of hearing me complain and protest, Papa Oberyn brought Maestra Drin from Lys.

 

Tessell is very, very ladylike fighting because the weapons involve ladylike things--- jewelry, fans, hair clips, belts, needles. It’s all about turning everyday objects and surroundings into tools of combat and hiding your weapons. I have hair clips that are designed to be used as brass knuckles, belts to be used as whips, fans that work like clubs, rings that contain hidden poison syringes, bracelet and necklace charms that work as darts... The fighting movements themselves are like a dance. It’s less about strength and more about speed and wits. It’s fun. And I’m able to make my wardrobe into an arsenal. These days, every accessory I receive doubles as some manner of weapon. My loved ones often have fun watching me try to figure each one out.

 

After fiddling with my new jewelry for a while, I ended up just using one of my belts and whipping various targets. I’ve been doing this for five years and I can now hit a Cyvasse piece off the top of a fence post several yards away and I can even put out individual flames on the end of a candelabra one wick at a time.

 

I imagine I’m now as good a fighter as Elia. We’re evenly matched when sparring, and that just infuriates her. She can’t believe I’m as effective with a hand fan as she is with her spear.  I’ll never be able to beat someone like Obara or Asha or Papa Oberyn in combat, but I’m better than Margaery and Myrcella. I’m almost as good as Arya, though that’s partially because I have a size advantage. It’s funny because five years ago, I was absolutely pathetic. I was even worse than Shireen, and Shireen is the clumsiest girl anyone has ever met, ever.

 

Despite the fact that I can knock a man unconscious with a hair clip, despite the fact that I have flowered, despite the fact that I am well-behaved, and despite the fact that I excel at my lessons, people still call me a child.

 

I think it’s because I haven’t bedded a man yet. Arianne, Obara, Nym, Tyena, Asha, Sarella, Margaery and even Elia have all done it.

 

It’s only been a few moons since I bled the first time, so there hasn’t been much time. But I’m the only maiden flowered in the gardens to still be innocent of a man’s touch.

 

I haven’t decided whom I’m going to do it with, is all. The top candidate is Frenys Manwoody, but there’s also Starris Dayne, Daemon Sand, and even Quentyn. I feel like I should be selective about this. Daemon is supposed to be a very good lover, according to Arianne and Papa Oberyn. He wasn’t good when he first coupled with Arianne, but after that he apparently learned quickly. But I’m worried that once we coupled, he’d write to my father asking for my hand like he did with Arianne. THAT WOULD NOT GO OVER WELL AT ALL.

 

Starris Dayne is handsome and strong and sweet, but he’s aimless. He’s a branch member of House Dayne, so he’ll never be lord of anything. He hasn’t become a knight, or studied to be a maester. Even Sarella is studying at the citadel and she’s a girl. Starris just… exists. I don’t think such a lazy person would make for a very good lover.

 

Quentyn, I think, might be a good choice except he’s not very handsome and he can be a bit stupid.

 

Frenys is my favorite. He’s tall, handsome, very smart and very sweet. And I think he loves me at least a little. But I’ve heard some rumors of him having… odd… preferences. I’m not even sure what that means.

 

But I would very much like to see him naked and touch his chest and stomach, run my fingers through his dark hair and feel him inside me. I bet he’d be gentle.

 

I’ve kissed him several times and I’ve always loved it. He has the softest lips of the men I’ve kissed, but not the softest lips I’ve kissed, period.

 

That honor will always go to Margaery. They say that the Targaryens actually were part dragon, like their sigil. If Margaery’s family were part rose (I know that doesn’t make sense), then I’d almost believe it because her lips feel like rose petals.

 

I think part of the reason I am waiting to do this is because I am afraid of the blood and pain. When ladies couple with gentlemen for the first time, it isn’t like what happens with their female lovers. At least, not the ways I’ve done it. With girls, I’ve only ever had a couple fingers inside me not going far enough to tear anything. I prefer just having the outer bits played with, or using mouths. Asha once told me girls can get special fake phalluses that they strap to themselves, but I just find the imagery of such a thing too ridiculous to be erotic. But with men, they have their natural parts. Those are already fairly ridiculous looking, but at least they’re natural.

 

Anyways, sex with men involves being penetrated deeply and the first time your cunny is penetrated far enough, your maidenhead tears and it bleeds and it hurts. Sometimes girls can have it tear when they ride. That happened to Arya a couple of years ago. I remember she went racing Trystane across some of the nearby dunes and complained about pain. When she got off her saddle, there was all this blood. A lot of us were absolutely horrified. The blood was awful to look at and we were worried about her. I was also horrified because I thought maybe her moon blood had come before mine and that would just NOT be acceptable. The Septa examined her and just said her maidenhead tore.

 

That has never happened to me. Which means I still have mine and it hasn’t torn and I WILL bleed when I first bed a man. And I don’t want that to happen.

 

First of all, I love being clean and beautiful and sweet. I want my first time to be that way too. Having something tear inside of me and get blood everywhere would be nasty and dirty and I just ate the sight of blood. I think the blood could run something special. And what if it disgusts the person I’m with?  It’s hard to be beautiful when you’re bleeding.

 

Then there’s the pain. Now, there’s some debate about this. My mother wrote me a letter right after I bled for the first time to “explain” some things. She told me the mechanics of how Lords and Ladies bed each other, which of course I already know. Mother warned me to keep my virtue and that my first time, it will hurt very, very much when my maidenhead tears. Tyene said her first time was awful. I once heard one of the septons say that “the agony” of maidenhead loss was punishment for a woman’s sinful nature. Margaery claims that it’s just a pinch. Asha says it hurts a fair amount, but that it doesn’t last long. But Arianne says the pain DOES last. Nym says you’re sore for days afterwards.

 

What if mine hurts horribly? What if I end up limping for days? I HATE limping. I like being graceful, so whenever I injure my legs, feet, ankles, or hips in the till yard and end up limping, I’m miserable.

 

I think coupling should be beautiful and sweet, not bloody and painful. My first time coupling was with Mama Ellaria’s cousin, Danella Uller, a year and a half ago and it was so lovely. There was no blood. When Margaery and I go to bed together, it’s always sweet.

 

So why does being with a man have to be bloody and painful? I understand the penetration aspect, but what I don’t understand is why we have that strip of flesh that makes us bleed the first time in the first place. What purpose does it serve? Our cunnies serve two purposes: to make us feel good and to make children. And part of the reason they’re designed to make us feel good is to want to make children. So where does something that makes you hurt and bleed the first time a man penetrates you fit in? Especially since it’s coupling with men that puts babies in our bellies in the first place.

 

 

And it isn’t like men feel any pain their first time with a woman. Well, unless they’re doing it horribly wrong.

 

I just I have some strange suspicion about the parts men in the first place. Because even if your maidenhead isn’t tearing, it can hurt. Men can also hurt other men when they’re coupling with them. It’s why one needs to be so very careful about picking a male lover, I think, if you’re a woman or a man who likes being penetrated. It seems like so much bother. And yet…

 

I understand why we go through it. And not just for childbearing. Though painful penetration scares me, I can understand how it might feel good. And men are wonderful to look upon and touch. I feel urges towards men far more often than I do towards women. I like their shoulders and arms and the way their stomachs ripple. I like their chests. And the idea of taking one into my bed makes me warm and excited and…

 

Dear Journal,

 

I had to stop and go climb under my covers and put my hand between my legs. I started aching so much writing about that. But I’ve relieved myself and feel lovely now.

 

I think I should definitely bed a man soon. Arya’s always saying I’m a sissy. Well I’m not. I don’t want to be a sissy. Being scared shouldn’t keep me from doing something I want to do.

 

I suppose there are other reasons I’m afraid, aside from pain and blood. So many people frown on girls taking lovers. My mother wrote to me when I bled that I had to protect my virtue and save myself for my future husband. There are lessons in the Seven Pointed Star about how a girl who is not a virgin is tainted and sinful. The Septons and Septas are always talking about it. Wanton whores who give themselves to anyone.

 

I don’t intend to give myself to ANYONE. And I don’t expect to be paid. But sometimes they call girls whores for bedding men even when they’re not paid for it. I’ve heard people call Mama Ellaria ‘The Viper’s Whore.’ I don’t understand that. Papa Oberyn doesn’t pay her. She’s his paramour. Everyone knows that.

 

I did find it horribly scandalous when I was a little girl, but I found everything horribly scandalous then. But I’m starting to wonder if that’s because outside of Dorne, everyone finds everything scandalous. Like Jon being a bastard. Or a young lady taking a lover.

 

What’s strange is that they always talk about how girls shouldn’t fornicate, but they always talk about coupling with men when they do. Coupling with women is never mentioned. Is that not as sinful?

 

I know that in many places, countless people think that men coupling with men is horribly wrong. That’s talked about far more. People say that it’s disgusting. I wondered if just any sort of bedding that involves men is what is sinful. But what doesn’t make sense about that is that when a man and a woman couple, it’s always the women that are treated like they’re ruined or more sinful than the man. Mama Ellaria is “The Viper’s Whore”, and yet Papa Oberyn isn’t “Ellaria Sand’s Whore.”

 

What are the standards here?

 

But what I do know is that in lots of places, people seem to care very much for a lady’s purity and it is seen as very damaging if a woman shares her body with a man who is not her husband. Mother kept going on and on in this letter about how I needed to resist men who would try to seduce me, how I had to preserve my virtue, how if I lost my innocence before my wedding night, I’d be ruined.

 

I’ll just copy the letter here.

 

_My Darling Daughter Sansa,_

_I was overjoyed to have heard that you have become a woman. Welcome, my dear, to your maidenhood. You are no longer a child, but a beautiful young lady. I just wish I could have been with you and shared this moment with you, and counseled you through it._ \--- I didn’t understand this part at all. What was there to counsel or share? I was bleeding. What was she going to do? I suppose she’d have celebrated with me. And I wish she could have, but who honestly needs to share the moment itself? I suppose she would have counseled me on how to use a blood rag. I just find this phrasing odd.--- _But knowing you are growing strong and well brings me happiness._

_I know your body is changing in a variety of ways, both wonderful and strange. Know that it is natural. But if you have any questions, do not hesitate to write to me. I am here for you._

 

 _While your flowering is a wonderful time, I do feel the need to advise you as only a woman can. It is my duty as your mother._ _Sansa, now that you are a young woman, you can never forget who you are_ \--- This also confused me. Is it not a problem if I forgot who I was BEFORE I flowered? I’d think such a thing would prove a dilemma for a person of any age--- _You are not just Sansa. You are Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. You are the trueborn daughter of a High Lord, the eldest. As such, you not only represent yourself, but also your family, Winterfell, and the entire North. Your honor is your family’s honor. It is your duty to someday wed a Lord of a Great House and bear his children, thus establishing ties between the noble families of this realm and benefit your family._

_I am not sure how much you’re already aware of, but a great part of this is sharing the bed of whichever Lord your father chooses to be your husband. On the night of your wedding, Sansa, you will be bedded. This involves not only sleeping next to your Lord husband, but coupling with him physically. You will both be undressed and the organ_ \--- You know what? I’m not copying the rest of this part. Basically she explains the mechanics of coupling in step-by-step detail using the most static and joyless language imaginable. She keeps referring to a man’s cock as his “organ”. It ends, as all sexual activities involving men tend to, with: _He will spill his seed within you, which will hopefully find root in your womb and produce a trueborn child. It is through this process that you will provide your Lord Husband with heirs to his keep and great name._

_Sansa, you may already be in possession of this information, and may find this embarrassing, but it is my duty to make absolutely sure you’re informed._

_Another thing you must know is that this act must only ever happen between you and your Lord Husband, and only after you’ve been wed. You should know, there are many men out there who might wish to entice you into this act before you’ve wed. You must never allow yourself to fall prey to this. If you were to be deflowered prior to your wedding night, it would not only ruin your reputation and marriage prospects, but also bring shame and dishonor to our family as a whole. As a noble House of the Realm, it is our duty to be an example of virtue. Your virginity is a precious thing, Sansa. And it is a gift that can only be given once. That gift belongs to your future husband.  If you were to debase yourself by wasting your virtue, you’d damage us all. Our family would be the product of scandal, we’d gain a reputation for debauchery, and you would fail to make the match you deserve because you’d be tainted and would no longer be able to offer your husband your virtue. Arya’s prospects would likely be harmed as well. Your value would go down, and you’d be seen as dissolute. Also know that other various intimate acts, as well as too much flirting or displays of affection towards too many people can give you a reputation. It’s not enough to stay a virgin, Sansa. One must also conduct oneself modestly and not give those around you the wrong impression. Do not display yourself wantonly, do not encourage too much attention from men, do not tempt them._

_Do not taint yourself by indulging the lusts of others. You must be on guard, protecting your virginity and staying pure and good. A fine Lord does not want a sullied wife. You owe it to yourself and to your family to stay chaste._

_If you do not, not only will you shame your family, but there could be other risks. Bastard children, for instance. Sansa, you could possibly be subjecting a child to a life of shame. Childbearing and raising is no easy business, Sansa. It is painful and difficult. And if you do not have the support of a good husband, your life shall be ruined. You could end up living an awful, secluded, shameful life instead of the one you deserve. Furthermore, if you allow yourself to be deflowered and gain a reputation, it will encourage various men to use you, and even force themselves on you. You may also find that people trust you less, treat you as a lesser person, and will not want to associate with you._

_I know that you are in a place with many hot-blooded men and lax morals, but I urge you to stay strong, My Dear. Protect yourself and your maidenhead. Keep yourself as pure as fresh snow. Be a daughter that this House can be proud of. Act worthy of your ancient name. Conduct yourself with grace and honor._

_If you were to be ruined, Sansa, my heart would break. You would not want your father and I to have to carry the shame of failing as parents. You would not want your brothers knowing that their sister had tainted herself by engaging in lewd practices. You would not want the Halls of Winterfell to be fouled by the shame of lust and sin. I want the very best things for you, Sansa. I do not want to have my daughter damage herself. You are the daughter of one of the greatest Lords in the kingdom, the eldest, and by all accounts you are a great beauty. You are poised to have the best of futures. Don’t throw that all away._

_Remember, if you ever need my counsel on anything, do not hesitate to write me._

_You were always a good girl, always a perfect lady. I am proud to call you my daughter. I know my daughter Sansa is a righteous, virtuous girl. I love you, Dear Heart. May your maidenhood be enchanted years._

_With Deepest Love,_

_Your Mother, Lady Catelyn Tully Stark_

 

When I first got this, I actually started crying. I had no idea I could ruin everyone’s lives this easily. Mama Ellaria comforted me and said that I have nothing to feel ashamed of. I told her that there seemed to be so much I could do wrong. She told me it’s fine for girls to have a couple of lovers, otherwise what is youth for? She just said that I shouldn’t tell my parents.

 

“Arianne and Margaery both have taken lovers. Neither will suffer for it. Neither shall you. Remember to take your moon tea, be discreet with your affairs, and you shall have nothing to fear. It is better to make love than to make war, is it not? Your family is up North, thousands of miles away. We are in Dorne, where beautiful girls like you are supposed to enjoy life. No one will look down on you, Dear Heart.”

 

I’d felt awful for a while, though. I became convinced that if I had dirty thoughts or spoke to boys, somehow the whole kingdom would know, brand me a slattern, and my family would disown me. I wouldn’t even go swimming for a couple of weeks because I didn’t want to expose myself. I started wearing these heavy, frumpy dresses that covered everything from the neck down and would sweat and generally feel miserable. I even fainted a couple of times.

 

Finally, one night Margaery got sick of it. She forced me to go out to the pools with her and there were many, many people there. She found Ser Davos Vaith and proceeded to make love with him in one of the pools in front of everyone. No one cared. There were no missives from Highgarden the next day regarding anyone being ruined.

 

 

She eventually showed me a letter from her grandmother detailing her various trysts when she was young. “My grandmother became Lady of Highgarden, Sansa. She did it by seducing my grandfather. It’s not about being wanton. It’s about being smart.”

 

And I’m glad, because I do like the way men look at me. I am growing very pretty breasts that I am proud of. I want people to know I have them. I like peaking and touching and kissing.

 

I should take a male lover. But as Margaery said, it’s about being smart. Mama Ellaria always has plenty of stores of moon tea, and I know other ways to protect myself. I’m not as stupid as Elia and Arya say I am.

 

Yes, I’m going to find someone and make love. Blood be damned.


End file.
